By Omar Mamoon
By Kate Williams
By Pete Kane
By Molly Gore
By Lou Bustamante
By Anna Roth
Of all the restaurants I've eaten at this year, I don't think any proved as tantalizing in advance, as exquisite to anticipate, as LuLu's upscale little sister, Azie. "Exquisite" is a word that should be used a lot when describing Azie, which is almost French for "Asia" (Asie), and while I adore that name and everything it implies, the Nine Bites appetizer I kept reading about was the thing that haunted me most.
Just say it: "Nine Bites." I didn't even know what the Nine Bites were, because I stopped reading every time I came to the words "Nine Bites," to enhance my longing with a subtle undertone of mystery. I'd sit back, stare out the window, and imagine my Nine Bites. From what corners of the globe would they be drawn?
Desire is such an exquisite spice.
826 Folsom St.
San Francisco, CA 94107-1166
Region: Mission/ Bernal Heights
538-0918. Open for lunch Monday through Friday from 11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m., dinner every night from 5:30 to 10:30 p.m. (11:30 p.m. on weekends). Reservations accepted. Wheelchair accessible. Parking: valet available, otherwise moderate to difficult. Muni: 12, 30, 45. Noise level: moderate.
Nine Bites $20
Coconut milk risotto with braised duck $12
Teriyaki-spiced smoked quails $25
Wasabi sesame-crusted halibut $27
Whole fish two ways $29
Banana empress rolls $8
Azie Bloody Mary $7
In fact, Nine Bites didn't seem like enough: I wanted nine times Nine Bites, or, even better, 9,999 x 9,999 Bites, which makes 99,980,001 Bites. Throw in a lush, tropical island, then maybe a basketball court, my magazine subscriptions, some people to hang out with, lots of music, an endless supply of Zombies and wasabi Bloody Marys, and then Deborah, a goddess among waitresses with a proper English accent who made our 2-1/4-hour meal at Azie flow so smoothly my brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and I never, ever wanted to leave, and God, if you're reading this, that's how I'd like my corner of heaven to be decorated.
Open since December, Azie would appear to be firing on all cylinders, from chef Jody Denton's cunning, exquisitely executed French-Asian menu to the restaurant's fusion of the professionalism one comes to expect at high-end establishments with an energetic, youthful urban hipness. If LuLu has the look of a sprawling, cavernous banquet hall, stepping into Azie is like discovering a quiet alcove in the Far East, an eclectic, high-ceilinged space decorated with paper lanterns, a silk chandelier, a gorgeous, second-level mezzanine, and booths set here and there almost randomly. A DJ spins records at the bar -- yes, it is a bit funky -- while a panel of mirrors rises from behind rows of liquor bottles, each mirror tilted at a slightly different angle to capture a different glimpse of Azie: a light burning behind paper, a splash of the smoky orange that gives the place a warm, embracing feel. In the open kitchen, chefs in white jackets perform miracles under bright lights, as if pursuing their craft in another dimension. Even the waitstaff, dressed in black vests, long aprons, and white collarless shirts, looks sharp, and proved as accommodating and friendly as any I've ever encountered.
Consider, for example, the manner in which we were greeted: Having dedicated the day to celebrating John and Leslie's birthtween (one birthday a week earlier, the other a week later), we'd spent the afternoon at the new ballpark, then headed to Extreme Pizza to drink beer until our 5:30 reservation. By the time we arrived at Azie, Nathan, who's 4, was quite audibly hungry, and kept demanding the kid's meal as we slid into one of three "abacus" booths, equipped with abacuses, wood shutters, and curtains that can be drawn shut in case, you know, you need to discuss family business.
Predictably, Azie had no kid's meal, and while Nathan isn't an overly picky eater, what he really, really wanted was a hamburger. Azie has no hamburgers either, we were told, as a handful of servers gathered around our table to solve this very serious problem. One suggested the grilled beef tenderloin from the tasting menu, which sounded fine, and then, a minute later, another said he'd procured some hamburger next door at LuLu and that the burger was already cooking. It was the first burger in the history of Azie -- thick, juicy, served with wedge-cut fries, tomato, lettuce, and red onion, the edges of the bread slightly toasted, just the way Nathan likes it. Then, paper and Magic Markers arrived without our even asking, and that was the last we heard from my nephew for quite a while.
Thus we turned to more adult pursuits, perusing a menu that could annihilate the most bottomless expense account: osetra and beluga caviar, a $58 tasting menu, a $50 vegetarian tasting menu, and a wine list that reads like a novel, with some 20 wines by the glass, a half-dozen imported sakes, 30 sparkling wines, and bottles ranging from the humble $20 jug to the $2,200 Romanee-Conti 1988 (and anyone who spends that much on wine without donating $22,000 to charity the following day will not be welcome in my corner of heaven). We selected ... liquor: a good, classic Singapore Sling, a refreshing plum sake cocktail (plum sake and vodka over crushed ice), a perfect, steely Poire William vodka martini, a luscious, fruity, truly dangerous Zombie, and then, the Zombie's antidote, a garden-fresh Azie Bloody Mary spiced with wasabi and soy sauce and served in a tall, slender pilsener glass rimmed with salt and black sesame seeds, the latter of which clung to the lips after each sip and made for a delicate little nibble until the next.
And then, under the guidance of the beautifully accented Deborah -- who could charm the heat out of a jalapeño, knew everything about everything, and, as it so happened, had been sky diving that day -- we ate. We began with a half-dozen glistening-fresh oysters splashed with a light sake mignonette and tobiko, and, of course, Nine Bites -- nine square dishes arranged on a square platter, each adorned with a tidbit from the tasting, dinner, and bar menus.